Chapter 6
Luca
“Can I sit next to you?”
“No.” Noah doesn’t even look up at me.
“Why not? Is the seat taken?” Too late, I realize what I just said. Fuck. I put on my nicest smile and can tell from the slight fluttering of his nostrils that Noah is really struggling not to say something mean.
His hazel eyes sparkle. “What do you want from me?”
“We’ll be spending a lot of time together over the next three months, whether you like it or not. I thought it would be easier if we didn’t completely hate each other.”
Noah’s gaze is steady and unyielding as he looks up at me through his thick glasses. Damn, he has beautiful eyes. What they might look like without the glasses?
I smile at him, that usually works on everyone.
I don’t mean to sound arrogant or anything, I just had to learn very early on what I needed to do to not be left behind.
I know how I have to act for people to like me.
I need to be as quiet as possible, as composed as possible, as little “me” as possible.
Snorting, he pulls his bag off the seat and demonstratively turns away.
During the ninety minutes of class, he doesn’t even look at me. I’m hoping for a partner assignment, but no luck. As soon as the professor finishes, he packs up and storms out of the auditorium. Well, that was a total bust.
To be honest, I don’t even know why I’m so desperate for Noah to talk to me, for him to… Oh God, it’s hard to admit it, but for whatever reason, I want him to like me.
All my movements are automatic. I grab my bag and leave the building on autopilot, my head a mess of confusing thoughts I can’t make sense of. I hate it.
“Hello, Maman.” It’s Noah. I look around and find him behind me, leaning against the wall with his head hanging down. “Why are you calling?”
His voice trembles, as if he’s trying very hard to stay calm. I’m not sure if he wants to cry or scream, but something needs to get out.
“No.” Ah, I know that word all too well. “I know this isn’t just any reception.”
Noah hasn’t seen me yet, and I know it’s wrong to eavesdrop, but the way he’s breathing is different than usual. And yes, I can tell by now.
“Maman, why do you need me to be there? Do you want to parade out the family disappointment, the weakling? Just so you can pretend to be the mother of the millennium because you still shower me with love?” Noah presses his lips together tightly.
I can still see that they’re trembling though.
In a quick motion, he slides his thumb under his glasses and wipes his eyes.
“No, Maman. This is never about me. My whole life has never been about me.” Just listening to him hurts. Every word stabs like a knife in my chest. I know all too well how he feels.
“I’m not being dramatic, Maman, I never have been. You’ve just never cared about who I am. We’ve had this conversation a thousand times—it’s pointless. I’m not coming to Father’s birthday. Au revoir, Maman.”
He lowers his phone and slides down the wall he’s been leaning against. His head falls onto his knees, and he looks even smaller than he actually is. It takes all my strength not to sit down next to him and wrap my arms around his narrow shoulders.
I wait for someone else to take care of him, but no one even looks down.
Screw it, he can’t hate me any more than he already does.
Slowly, I move closer to him. Quietly and carefully, so as not to startle him, I crouch down right in front of him and reach for his left hand, the one he’s using to hide his face.
“Come on, let’s go get a hot chocolate.”
Stunned, he looks up at me, but doesn’t pull his hand away.
“Did you bring your mug?”
“Were you eavesdropping on me?” His eyebrows knit together in anger.
“I just happened to pass by, and you were impossible to miss. You sounded so stressed, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” And I was curious what Noah Martin was talking to his mother about, but I don’t tell him that. I never would’ve expected what I overheard.
“I’m absolutely fantastic. The ground is as soft as a meadow filled with flowers, and I couldn’t imagine a better place to spend my break. Thanks for asking.” His tone is as sharp as usual, but I understand now why he’s so dismissive. It’s self-protection. He’s afraid of getting hurt.
“Really? Maybe I should sit down with you then.”
Snorting, he lets his head drop. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because no one should really be alone. And something tells me you’re even more alone than I thought.”
“Fuck you, I don’t need your pity.” He brushes me off decisively and scrambles to his feet.
“You don’t have to believe me, Noah, but I know the feeling. It’s not pity, it’s compassion. There’s a difference.”
He jerks his head toward me, and I know he’s holding back his words at the last moment. His open mouth betrays his impulse. Instead, he looks me straight in the eyes, and I don’t know why, but it feels like a test I desperately need to pass.
“Hot chocolate?” Why does my brain always jump to hot chocolate when I feel cornered? Maybe because Paps always makes me some when I need it the most and it always helps.
“Okay.” The word doesn’t come easily. I can see his internal struggle to trust me.
A few girls give us funny looks when they see us together, but I ignore everything going on around us.
“Did you bring your cup?”
Embarrassed, he fiddles with the straps of his backpack, then nods quickly. “But only because I think it’s more sustainable than paper cups. Not because I… never mind.”
I smile at him cautiously. “Not to drink hot chocolate with me?”
“Definitely not.”
“Got it. Now come on.”
With two steaming cups in hand, we sit on the concrete border of a large flower bed in front of the cafeteria.
“How do you know what it feels like to be alone?” Noah doesn’t look at me when he asks the question. His gaze is fixed on his hot chocolate, his voice soft, and for the first time, I get the feeling he doesn’t want to launch me to the moon on the next available rocket.
No one here at the university knows my story, and I actually wanted it to stay that way, but Noah isn’t like everyone else. I have to prove I’m worthy of his trust. I look around nervously. Fuck, I hate this.
“You hinted at something. Two weeks ago, after class. That for twelve years, no one cared about you, not even your mother.”
“Don’t call her that. She doesn’t deserve that title. Not after she abandoned me in a shopping mall when I was two and a half.”
Noah’s eyes widen. “Comment?”
“You heard me right. I had nothing on me except my clothes and a note with my first name and my date of birth. I didn’t even have a last name.”